Page 98 of Long Live the King
The heat from the fire warmed me. I looked over the unappetizing food. I was hungry but so scared that my stomach was upset.
I was in a medieval reenactment of some kind, or a cult, and the two women seemed nice enough: They were feeding me, they weren’t causing me immediate harm, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t actually communicate. And none of this made sense.
But I calculated the steps to the door. There was a hiding place in the corner. There wasn’t much that would make a weapon...
I gazed around the room as I chewed the crusty bread. The meat was poultry of some kind, gamey tasting, like a dark meat from a turkey. It all needed spice.
I could pick up this chair and swing it at this woman while her back was to me. I could knock them both out with the candlestick...
I drank from the mug. It was a dark ale, with a thick head. I was tense and frightened, but the warmth of the hearth, the bread, and the stout beer worked to calm my nerves. The mug had a bit of heft to it, I could use it as a weapon.
The women left, thankfully, carrying my poop bowl out to dump it, leaving me alone in this ‘kidnap-house-of-horrors’ to finish eating.
The men who had grabbed me had been dressed in modern clothes, I felt sure. They had been driving SUVs, they hadn’t been old fashioned like this. These people were pretending to be in some ancient kind of land... I was wracking my brain for a memory of some kind of cult in the county — I grew up in a small town, I didn’t understand why I had never heard of any religious communes. How had this place been kept secret?
After I finished eating I stared into space.How would I get out of here?I needed to find a phone, a gun, anything to use to call for help.
The two women returned, one carrying a bundle of cloth, the other bringing a pitcher of water. They gestured for me to stand and came at me with a wet rag.
I shook my head. They made hand gestures for washing my hands and face.
I looked down. My clothes were gross, my arms were filthy, likely my face was equally bad. Fine. I stuck out my hands. One ran the cloth over my hands and arms, the other started washing my face. I spluttered, and tried to turn my head. I would not be manhandled, but they manhandled me anyway, holding my arms they washed me without my consent.
Then I pulled away and went and stood against the wall near the table with the mug. They both held up a dress and urged me with wild gestures to take my shirt off. They wanted to dress me.
Over my dead body.
I shook my head and held up the mug, menacingly.
They gave up, laying out the clothes on the bed and then bowing and leaving the room.
I looked down at what I was wearing and over at the clothes they had left out for me, they did look warmer, the fabric was pretty, but it would be a mistake to put it on — if this was a cult then putting on their uniform was the first step in joining.
I would not.
I approached the bed and felt the fabric and considered. The weird part was that this dress was prettier than theirs.
I still would not wear it.
Even though the dress had long sleeves and would definitely be warmer than the t-shirt I was wearing. There was a cape, but even that was a no.
The skirt I was wearing was dark gray, and had drawstrings that cinched up the side, I loosened those, so that the bottom hem went straight across, covering my ankles, but that was all I could do to get warm.
I strode over to the door and found it unlocked. I pushed it open and stood in the doorway, looking around at the buildings and the timber walls. My sight was dark and dim, my hearing muffled.What did they do to me? And who were they?
I could leave.I could just go. Down at the end of the timber wall I could see what might be a gate. Would there be guards? I was so confused.Where would I go?
I would decide once I was out.
I kept the door ajar but returned to the interior of the room and noticed a piece of paper stuck in the folds of the dress. I pulled it free, unfolded it, and in a looping script it said:
Make yourself at home.
I dropped it to the ground, my hands trembling and looked around the room.
I was completely alone, kidnapped, and probably something terrible was about to happen. They wanted to dress me like some kind of princess. Why on earth would they give me a dress? I would not comply.
CHAPTER 40 - ASH
